


Serendipity I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:33:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Serendipity I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Serendipity by Kassandra

Serendipity  
by Kassandra ()

* * *

For the tenth time, Walter Skinner asked himself what he was doing in Fox Mulder's hallway. With a six pack of beer, no less, under his arm.

It seemed.....very unlike him. 

But the agent's frozen shock after the discovery of his burnt out office still haunted him. He'd warned Mulder that bringing in the Justice department was a dangerous course, but he'd never supposed that danger to include arson.

Which was what it was starting to look like, according to the fire department investigator.

He had little doubt that information would be suppressed in the coming days, but Mulder deserved to know for certain.

Although Mulder's paranoia was such that Mulder probably already 'knew'.

Smiling wryly, he waited until Mulder opened the door, felt a pang at the haunted, haggard face. "Mulder." Gruffly.

"Sir." Mulder blinked, stood aside to let him in. "Have you heard from the committee?"

"No, no." Skinner handed him the bag. "No, I just came by to see how you were doing."

Mulder took the bag. Regarded it blankly and then opened it. His mouth quirked faintly. "With your own six pack. Good stuff, too, sir." There was some light in his eyes when he looked back at Skinner. "Thanks."

Skinner shrugged, uncomfortable suddenly. "I....I talked to the fire department investigator, there are clear signs of arson."

"Tell me something I don't know." Mulder sounded tired again, vanished into the kitchen and returned with two beers. "Straight from the bottle?"

"Hey, I was a Marine, not some effete intellectual snob." Skinner mustered a smile from somewhere, took the beer.

"I knew I liked you, sir." Mulder gestured, led the way into his cave of a livingroom.

He wondered, sometimes, why Mulder kept living in this cave. He could afford better. On the other hand, having informants butchered on one's doorstep probably would cause problems in better neighborhoods.

They settled in the livingroom, he at one end of the couch, Mulder at the other. "You all right?" he asked gruffly.

Mulder shrugged. "Diana's still listed in critical."

Skinner considered that, nodded. "Yeah."

They drank in silence for a few moments. "We were so close." Mulder blinked. "So goddamned close, that's why this happened, to shut us down. You'd better get deniability, sir, or they'll try and take you down, too."

Skinner bristled. "Don't be an ass." Brusquely. "I'm not some goddamn politician, Mulder. I listened to your evidence and backed you."

Mulder's shoulders slumped a little. "Sorry, sir, I just....." His voice trailed off, he took a sip of the beer.

Skinner nodded, took a sip of his own. "Isn't there a basketball game on?"

Mulder seemed to return from some private reverie. "Oh, yeah. NBA." Reached for the remote on the coffee table and switched it on.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Skinner leaned back. Pretended to relax. Glad he'd changed from his suit. Maybe Mulder would relax, maybe Mulder could lose himself in the game and the beer.

So, they sat, two ordinary guys watching a game. Or not so ordinary. After a while, Mulder got up and came back with two more beers and a dilapidated bag of pretzels.

The pretzels were none too fresh. But Skinner managed a few. Watched as the level in the second beer went down. As the tension in the other man's face began to melt away.

As the bottle emptied, Skinner went and got another beer, came back and gave it to Mulder. Wondered where Scully was and gave it up as futile. Whatever Scully was doing, her behavior the last few months had shown that their friendship was fracturing.

Sat down on the couch and handed the beer to Mulder. Got a flicker of a grin.

"You trying to get me drunk, sir?"

"I hope it would take more than three beers, Mulder." Drily.

"I dunno, sir, I don't drink that often." But Mulder took the beer, swigging the dregs from the second bottle.

They talked idly of the game for a while, Skinner nursed his second beer. Watching Mulder.

Moved on to talk of college. 

"I went to Northwestern, after I got back from Vietnam." Skinner grimaced. "Prelaw. Switched to Admin of Justice for my Masters and doctorate."

"Couldn't handle the dark side, eh?" Mulder actually grinned. "I don't blame you. I really hadn't consciously thought about the Bureau, but they recruited me out of Oxford." A long sigh.

"I'd just come out of a bad relationship, I was ready to get back to the states, focus on work....and the Bureau contacted me." Brief grin in Skinner's direction. "Courted me, if you can believe that now."

"I believe it." Skinner leaned back, put his feet on the coffee table. "Remember, I told you, we were hearing about you while you were still in the academy."

A wry chuckle. "Yeah, I'll bet.

Skinner chuckled in return. "Well, that you were fucking brilliant, quirky as hell, arrogant without intending it." He took another sip. "And a superior cocksman, scoring with Admin staff like crazy."

To his surprise, Mulder blushed. "God, half of that......wasn't even true." He slanted Skinner a look that was almost diffident. "I mean, sure, I got lucky, but not half as often as people thought I did. Jesus, I'd have been too tired to think."

"Or move," Skinner agreed, laughing softly.

"Or profile." Mulder grinned, sprawled lazily back on the couch. Eyed him. "You were married in those days, right?"

"Don't go there, Mulder," Skinner told him, but spoiled the effect by chuckling.

Mulder grinned. Glanced back at the game. "Macho games," he mused. "I think it made it easier for them to accept me, I mean, being a cocksman meant I wasn't some faggot psychologist. I have to admit, I didn't correct all that many of the rumours, it was hard enough to work with some of those guys."

Skinner nodded, snagged another semi-stale pretzel. "Especially the old hardliners." He chuckled again. "They must have had a collective stroke when the news came out about Hoover."

Mulder snickered. The snicker became an outright belly laugh. "And..the black cocktail gown!" Hooting.

Something in Skinner's belly unknotted. "And the drag parties," he agreed, beginning to laugh himself.

More laughter, and then Mulder began to wind down. Snorting occasionally. Thoroughly relaxed. As relaxed as Skinner had ever seen him. Unguarded. Boyish grin that had never seen the light of day inside the Hoover building. "Oh, God, I needed that," Mulder finally sighed. Eyed him. "You're starting to scare me, sir, I thought you were one of the old guard."

Skinner rolled his eyes. "I'm the intermediate guard, hair loss or no, Mulder. I came in after Vietnam, remember?"

Another grin. It surprised him how much relief he felt at that. 

Mulder took another long drink. "It amazes me that these guys get so bent about Hoover's rep. I mean, the guy is dead, let him rest in peace."

"Yeah, but they've got to swagger twice as hard to prove they can shoot straight." He grinned at Mulder, felt warmed by the laughter that brought.

"Yeah, but....I mean, come on, according to Kinsey, shit I can't remember the percentage, but it's some unholy amount, according to Kinsey, experimentation goes on universally. I mean, come on, didn't you ever fool around when you were a kid?"

The conversation was gradually becoming surreal. But it was a good deal better than talking about the ashes of Mulder's work. He shook his head at Mulder, laughing, took another sip of beer. "Define kid," he challenged.

Mulder tilted his head back. "Well, anywhere from pre-pubescent to, um, early twenties." Grinned back at him.

"That's a big range, Mulder." He couldn't help belly laughing. "I think abnormal psych has corrupted you."

Mulder broke up again. "God, no, I fit right in." He wiped at his eyes. "I mean, I did when I was at Oxford. Homesick as hell, if you can believe that after my family life. One of my tutors more or less tripped me into bed for a while."

He nearly choked on his beer, grinned crookedly. "Hey, Mulder, isn't that a given for Oxford?"

Mulder chortled, flipped him off, apparently relaxed enough to forget that he was flipping off his AD.

Skinner grinned, felt the faintest flicker of delight at Mulder's ease. "Yeah, well, I have to admit, there was some.....experimentation in 'Nam."

"The fleshpots of Bangkok?" Mulder arched an eyebrow wickedly.

"The jungles of Vietnam," Skinner retorted drily. "When you're eighteen and scared to death, it's easy to take comfort where you can."

Mulder sobered. "Yeah, I can imagine. No, I can't imagine." He looked down at his beer bottle.

"Nobody can," SKinner told him gently. "Believe me."

Mulder nodded. His gaze went distant. "I was so goddamned homesick. And I couldn't believe it, I mean, I'd been desperate to get away." He glanced sidelong at Skinner, shrugged.

"Culture shock," Skinner suggested softly. "No matter what you may think, Great Britain ain't the US."

"Amen." Wry smile and Mulder touched his mouth. "I think the weirdest part was kissing a man."

Skinner, in the act of swallowing, choked. "The weirdest part?"

Mulder looked up at him, blushed. "Well, I mean...." Trailed off.

Skinner chuckled. "The weirdest part is that it's familiar yet different."

Got a grateful nod.

He wasn't sure this was the wisest conversation. Two beers and he was spilling details he'd never told anyone. Two beers and he was imagining what Mulder looked like, felt like. Arousal brushed the base of his spine, whispered in his ear, thickening his cock against the denim of his jeans. He swallowed the last of the beer. Set the bottle down carefully.

"The feeling of beard stubble on your skin," Mulder mused softly and sighed. 

Brushfire heat in his brain, in his blood. Abruptly insane, he leaned forward, took hold of the front of Mulder's t-shirt and pulled him close. "Like this?" Roughly. And he kissed Mulder.

Warm, soft lips, parting under his. Passive for a heartbeat, but then moving under his, tongue stroking against his tongue. Taste of expensive beer, feel of beard stubble under his fingertips as he cupped Mulder's face. Short dark hair like velvet as he moved his hand, cupped the back of Mulder's skull, curving his hand to the shape of flesh and bone.

He pulled back, breathing hard. "Did it feel like that?" Hoarsely.

He thought Mulder's expression was stunned. Dazed. Completely unable to think. Mulder made a faint sound in his throat. Great, Skinner thought, aware he was so hard he ached, bring beer and get your subordinate drunk and take advantage of him.

The thought didn't deter him. 

He kissed Mulder again, wrestling them both into a reclining position on the leather couch. Pushed Mulder's t-shirt up, letting his hands roam while he kissed him. Mulder was still kissing him back, no protest, and the bulge beneath Mulder's jeans was......tantalizing and reassuring at the same time.

"Oh," Mulder breathed, when Skinner freed his mouth. "Jesus, oh," as Skinner began to unbutton his jeans. "I, ah, are you sure....."

Skinner took his mouth again, primarily to shut him up. Trusting that if the answer was no, Mulder would cold cock him again. No pun intended, he thought darkly, and attacked the soft skin below Mulder's earlobe.

Nipping and biting while he worked Mulder's jeans open. Slid his hand under the waistband of Mulder's underwear and grasped what he sought. Hardness, stretched silky skin, velvety tip, and he rubbed his thumb on it.

Mulder arched under him, making an indescribable sound in his throat, delicious sound, and Skinner pushed the t-shirt up, kissed the cup of Mulder's navel, ran his tongue inside it.

"Is this happening?" Mulder's voice was dazed. Hoarse.

Skinner nipped his belly. "No, it's a dream."

"Okay." Weakly and his hands gripped Skinner's shoulders.

He slid both hands inside the loosened jeans, ran them around to cup the ripe curve of Mulder's ass and felt his cock throb with hunger. "Did he fuck you, this guy at Oxford?" Softly.

Mulder squirmed. "What? Oh. Um. Yeah. A couple of times." A ragged breath. "This isn't happening, is it."

"Nope." Skinner kissed his mouth again. Pressed his hips forward, pushing their bodies together.

"Oh, good." Mulder's arms went around his shoulders hard, pulling him closer still. Mulder nipped his chin. Made another of those delicious sounds of pleasure.

He devoured pale skin. Mulder had clearly spent too much time in the basement, he needed to get out more, and what the hell was he thinking about that for when Mulder's body arched up under him, rubbed against him......

"I'm not doing this," he rasped and bent to take one of Mulder's nipples delicately between his teeth. The hell he wasn't, the simple thought of being clasped in Mulder's body turned his brain to.....to something nonfunctioning and nonsentient, a simple transformation from a thinking human being to a creature whose brain stem was attached directly to his dick. 

Somehow, more by accident than design, he managed to get his own jeans off, get Mulder's off and the sensation of Mulder's bare skin against his own completed the meltdown.

Mulder's hands cupped his face hard. "Bedroom." Hoarsely. "Lube. Condom."

He'd never been so glad of Mulder's ability to narrow focus. They made it to the bedroom somehow, glancing off the hallway walls in fiercely exploratory embrace a few times.

Ended up on the bed. Fox Mulder, stark naked and rampantly erect, was the most beautiful thing he remembered seeing in just about forever. They almost grappled, both of them starving, hungry, tasting and licking and nipping. The back of Mulder's knee, he discovered, was very sensitive, the inside of Mulder's thigh, the flat plane of hip, the underside of Mulder's arm.....he set himself to learning these spots, found the tables turned abruptly as Mulder learned him.

Making those little sounds of need.

God, Mulder's ability to narrow focus.....one of his admirable qualities, Skinner thought dimly, feeling that warm, wet mouth travel down his torso. Close over the tip of his shaft.

Christ, Mulder definitely knew what he was doing, firm grip at the base of his cock, warm mouth, that tongue striking and swirling until he thought he'd succumb to a heart attack or come or both.

He pushed Mulder away, reversed them again, fumbling for the lube and condom. Keeping Mulder distracted with lips and tongue until he got the goddamned drawer open and the necessities out.

He made the mistake of getting the lube out first, warmed it on his fingers and stroked it around and into the ring of muscle, heard Mulder hiss. Mulder's legs drew back, he heard a whimper and took it for agreement, stroked more lube in, nipped the inside of Mulder's thighs.

Of course, he couldn't get the goddamned condom packet open then, Mulder finally sat up and snatched it from him, making irritated noises in his throat. Tore it open. 

The intensity of Mulder's gaze nearly tipped him over the edge, fingers featherlight as they rolled the latex over him.

He took that lush mouth hard, sucked on Mulder's tongue, his lips, pressed his cock down to push the head carefully in.

Mulder's legs hooked around him, around the small of his back. Oh, Christ, he couldn't believe how good it felt. Hot and tight.....he wondered if the tutor had been the last one to take Mulder, which thought made him groan and push in, trying hard to be careful.

Mulder gasped, tightened on him. 

He leaned up on his elbows. "Relax," he murmured, "I won't rush," although the sound of his pulse triggered the urge to simply slam into Mulder. "Tell me if it hurts, I'll stop."

"The hell." Hoarsely, and Mulder tipped his head back, eyes closed, Skinner felt the flesh around him welcome the invasion, letting him further in and nearly lost control again. Gritted his teeth and eased in, breathing raggedly.

Mulder moaned. "Oh, Christ, no, don't stop, I'm okay, just.....oh, Christ." He reached down to stroke himself, arched his back up into that thrust.

Skinner's brain finally completed shutdown. Nothing but sensation, the tight grip of Mulder's flesh, the feel of beard stubble under his lips, smooth skin of the crook of Mulder's shoulder, the tendon under his teeth. Steady motion, pistoning slowing, then more quickly as Mulder's flesh clasped him, gripped him. Mulder writhed under him, making helpless, wordless cries, he tasted salt on Mulder's chest, felt sweat drip from him, felt the slickness of it between them.

It lasted forever, it lasted not long at all, and suddenly, Mulder arched under him, Mulder's flesh clenched around him, almost painfully tight, he felt himself tip over, cried out into Mulder's throat and thrust hard, coming and coming and coming, feeling it like hot oil, filling the latex around him.

Slippery heat between them as Mulder's cock pulsed, he could smell it, taste it, ended up deep inside Mulder, resting on his elbows, looking down at a face that might have been that of a lost angel, innocent and guilty at the same time. "Oh, God," he breathed, not wanting to move, despite the fact that his cock was softening, shrinking. 

"God." Mulder's eyes were half-closed. "This didn't happen." Wistfully.

"The hell." Skinner kissed him hard. "Jesus, Mulder." Nipped his throat, his chin. "I'm not *that* deluded."

Mulder's eyes opened, searched his face. "Okay." Equably, but with some degree of warmth. "It did happen."

"It's an X file." Skinner slid his arms under Mulder's back, held him hard. "Christ, you have that effect on me, Mulder." Humorously.

"Oh, right, it was my fault. Who brought the beer over?" No edge, just laughter riding underneath Mulder's voice.

Skinner smiled against Mulder's skin, raised his head. "God, ulterior motives. And here I thought the only thing I wanted to do was get you to relax."

Outright laughter, Mulder tilted his head back. "Well, I'm very relaxed."

"You're such a psychologist," Skinner gibed gently. Kissed him again. "Well, hell." Nipped warm skin. Felt his own licked. Kissed. And fell back into a kiss, deep and luxurious. Stroked Mulder's shoulders and arms. 

Nice. Very nice. Not just a hot fuck, not just seeking comfort, although it was frighteningly comforting. 

Mulder chuckled when he drew away. "I don't guess I'd better tell that story any more."

He gave Mulder a long look. "I don't guess you'd better," he agreed and began to laugh. "I don't think it has quite the effect you intended."

"Not that I'm complaining." Mulder sighed. Unhooked his legs. Hissed as Skinner pulled out. 

Condoms had advantages, Skinner reflected, but they were also....a pain. Skinning it off, he rolled off the bed, found a wastebasket on the other side of the bed and disposed of it.

Came back to sprawl beside Mulder, both of them lying on their backs. Comfortable silence.

"Well," Skinner said, finally, antic laughter fighting to escape, "Consider it the first new X file."

Soft laughter. "Oh, I do."

And it was too much, he rolled over on top of Mulder. "No names," he warned, chuckling. "The Bureau has enough of a reputation these days."

"Maybe I'll use Blevins and Tom Colton," Mulder told him, grinning.

"That's not an X file, that's a tabloid headline."

"Sometimes, it's hard to know the difference." 

Green eyes, definitely green tonight. Skinner sighed, bent his head and kissed more gently. Softly. A friend's kiss. Maybe a lover's kiss.

Who could tell the future? He couldn't.

But he was content to enjoy the present.

Stretching underneath him, Mulder offered a mischievous, yet diffident smile. "So, a rematch in twenty?"

He smiled down. "Gotta keep your spirits up, Mulder."

"I don't think my spirits have anything to do with it."

"For me, they do." He gazed steadily back.

"You're crazy."

"That's what my family said when I told them I was joining the Bureau." He eyed Mulder. "I haven't been watching your ass all these years in hopes of spiking it."

Mulder grinned again. "Just serendipity?"

"Something like that." He thought something in Mulder's face relaxed. He knew something in him relaxed at the smile Mulder gave him, like a gift. "Do you have anything to eat in this place besides stale pretzels?"

"They aren't that stale. I can call for a pizza." Mulder's hands moved restlessly over his shoulders, smoothing skin, tracing scars.

"Good idea." Skinner released him finally, rolling off. "Shower?"

"Sure." Mulder sat up, looking ridiculously young and rumpled. And uncertain again. "We're missing the game."

Skinner smiled. "Do you care?"

A silent look. "Well, I don't much care for the Bulls, but it's nice to see them get beaten."

"We'll check at halftime." Skinner closed the gap between them. Sat down on the bed beside Mulder. "Are you going to have trouble with this?" Seriously.

Mulder studied him for a moment. He could almost hear the wheels and gears turning. "I don't think so." Seriously in turn. "I think I'm a little shell shocked."

Putting a hand out, Skinner ruffled the hair at Mulder's nape. Ridiculously soft. "Yeah. Well, it's a feeling I recognize." Wryly.

Got another real Mulder grin. "What a relief."

"Shower," he said pointedly.

"Absolutely. Wanna wash my back?"

A slow smile curved Skinner's mouth. "Among other things."

Mulder's laughter was like a gift. 

Nobody knew what tomorrow was going to throw their way, but that laughter was reassurance of sorts. Whatever they'd done here, it hadn't damaged either of them. Hadn't damaged the level of trust they'd managed to achieve.

And following Mulder down the hall, he eyed the lean back, the curve of Mulder's ass and felt some degree of satisfaction and desire, confusing and alarming at the same time.

No, he didn't know what was going to happen past tonight.

Right now was good enough for both of them.

 

* * *

 

Slashx: 28 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 30 July 1998  
Serendipity II  
By Kassandra   
This snippet is brought to you by the lurker in the shadows; I wrote it for the lurker's birthday and our lurker is such a generous soul that I am sharing it with our list!  
This takes place in the Serendipity universe after the events of the movie.

* * *

Mulder woke to feel solid weight behind him, blearily assessed his surroundings and sighed. Smiled. Eyes still closed. Leaned back against the warmth behind him and deliberately wriggled.

Heard a sort of snore, a wordless grumble and a hand snaked around his belly and down between his legs. A very proprietary hand, indeed. 

He wriggled again.

"Keep it up," drowsy voice from behind him, "And you're going to find out how grouchy I can be in the morning."

He grinned. Rubbed his palm against the hair on the arm that was around his waist. "Oops."

Another wordless grumble and Skinner raised his head, deliberately nipped Mulder's earlobe. Hard.

"Ouch!" He laughed outright. "What was that for?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out." Skinner's arm tugged him over to his back and he looked up into dark eyes. The hand moved up to his chest. "You're the psychologist."

He touched Skinner's face. "There are so many things," he admitted. "Almost kissing Scully, running off to Antarctica. Leaving you holding the bag after I got out of the hospital."

Sober look and Skinner sighed. "Pick one." Bent his head and Mulder tilted his face up, received the kiss gladly.

They hadn't been like this for a while. 

Too long, Mulder thought, drinking in the taste of Skinner, stroking the broad shoulders. God, god, this was good, he arched slightly as Skinner shifted his weight. Too long, since the night Skinner had come to his apartment and they'd both surprised each other. 

He'd thought Skinner had second thoughts, had decided the bad news outweighed the good.

But he'd come here last night to thank Skinner for his help and support and ended up in Skinner's bed. Quite happily.

"Mmm." Skinner drew back, his mouth grazed Mulder's jaw. Moved to the hollow of Mulder's throat. "You are the most maddening individual." Punctuating each word with a kiss or a nip, moving down Mulder's throat to his chest. To his nipples.

He moaned, felt the jolt of pleasure go straight to his groin. "Jesus, Walter."

"Mmm?" Skinner's mouth was hot. Thorough. His nipples felt like points of fire, a fire which was rapidly threatening to travel south. "Complaints?" Muffled voice.

"Hell, no." He put his hands on the back of Skinner's neck, stroked the nape, the fringe of hair. God. God. God. "I'm not complaining, no, not me." Breathlessly. Happily. 

God, he'd really thought--he'd been careful not to make assumptions, and things had been so weird, and Jesus, if Skinner kept that up.....

He arched up under Skinner's mouth. "That's good," he whispered and tilted his head back, "Oh, Jesus." 

"I was waiting for you to come over," Skinner murmured and pressed his hips forward against Mulder's. Raised his head again. "You damned well took your time."

Mulder blinked, events and information falling into place with an audible click. "Shit, I was afraid to." 

"Idiot." Skinner kissed his mouth hard, tongue stroking in deeply. 

Mulder shifted, rubbed up against Skinner, memorizing the shape of muscle and bone under his fingertips. 

He was an idiot, he thought feverishly. He'd assumed, and Skinner had been afraid to assume, he should have thought of that. And now, he couldn't think about anything but the taste and feel of Skinner in his arms again.

Skinner broke away from the kiss and leaned across him, fumbling in the drawer of the bedside table. He rubbed his cock against Skinner's belly, whimpered in need. "I'm glad you were an Eagle Scout." 

Skinner glanced at him. "What?"

"Always prepared." He stroked his palms restlessly across the small of Skinner's back, enjoying the smoldering look Skinner gave him. Hissed as Skinner deliberately pressed back against him. "Yes, yes, yes, I am an idiot. You're right. I would have been over the next weekend, I thought you were reconsidering."

Skinner's expression change and Skinner shifted back, holding the bottle of lube and a small square packet. Studying him. "Hmmm, maybe I was an idiot, too." And kissed him again, deep and hard, hungrily.

Something that he hadn't realized hurt stopped hurting, he wriggled under Skinner, wanting every inch of contact, holding Skinner against him. Caught his breath as Skinner leaned back again, reached out and closed his fingers around Skinner's cock. "I'm glad we got that cleared up." Husky voice, humorous tone and he got another smoldering look. Took the packet and opened it, leaned up and took the head of Skinner's cock into his mouth. 

Skinner groaned for him. Put a hand lightly on his head, fingers in his hair. "Yeah." Hoarsely. "Oh, Jesus." 

He flicked the head with his tongue, tasting the salty-sourness of pre-cum. Drew back slowly, dragging the underside against his lower lip and tongue. And looked up to see Skinner's face, taut with pleasure. Sitting up a little more, he unrolled the condom over Skinner's shaft, reached down to cup the heavy sac below. Kissed Skinner's belly, nipped gently.

"Jesus, you are something else." Softly. Skinner's fingers tipped Mulder's face up, Skinner bent and kissed him hard, then gently nudged him back to the pillows. 

Big hand parting his legs, he drew them back and up, whimpered at the first cool touch of lube. Pressed up into Skinner's fingers. "Oh, God, that's good."

Skinner's mouth grazed his inner thigh, Skinner's fingers opened him, prepared him. And then there was something thicker, something harder and he pushed up into it, biting his lip against the invasion until the pain shifted to pleasure. To fullness. Oh, Christ, better even than he thought he'd remembered, to have Skinner inside him, to have Skinner touching him.

"There," Skinner murmured and pulled Mulder's legs up, over his shoulders. "God, you're incredible." Moving slowly. Carefully. Putting his fingers around Mulder's cock. Slippery with lube, and God, it *was* incredible.

He tossed his head, reached down and wrapped his fingers over Skinner's, showing him the rhythm, and Skinner followed. 

Or maybe led, he couldn't be sure, and he sure as hell didn't care. It was Skinner here with him, who wanted him. It was Skinner he wanted. Whoever led, whoever followed, it was real, not some fiction he'd created to entertain himself.

Hot, God, it was hot, he writhed for it, spitted on Skinner's desire, on Skinner's need, burning with his own. Hot and getting hotter and he heard himself making helpless sounds, begging wordlessly and Skinner moved faster, harder, fingers stripping him mercilessly, driving him toward ecstasy again.

Like the night before. Oh, God, like the night before, and adding that memory to the present dance tipped him over, he felt the jolt at the base of his spine, cried out helplessly as he arched into Skinner's fist again and again and again. Heard Skinner's voice, low and deep, crying out a litany of what might have been blasphemy, but which sounded more like a prayer.

And then he was held again, still spitted. Kissed again. The smell of sex and semen in the air, the tang of sweat. Kissed back, fingers pressed into the heavy muscle of Skinner's shoulders, whimpering into Skinner's mouth.

Until Skinner drew back, still breathing unevenly. "Good morning." Husky voice. "Shall we try not to be idiots any more?"

He nodded, unable to gather his wits enough to speak. Nodded again, emphatically. 

Skinner's smile rewarded him. "We're both crazy." Softly. "But hell, life's too short to stay sane all the time, don't you think?"

Did he ever. He leaned up for another kiss, hard and fast and sank back, breathless again. Still kneading Skinner's shoulders. 

"Shower?" Skinner suggested.

He nodded again, sighed as Skinner withdrew. "Do I get breakfast?"

He got an assessing look. "Try going anywhere until tomorrow and you won't sit down for a week."

He grinned. "I might not anyway."

Another assessing look. "Two weeks, then."

It was enough of an agreement for now. "I'm easy," he told Skinner.

"Not in the slightest," Skinner disagreed.

He laughed all the way into the bathroom.

Finis 


End file.
